Silver Alcohol Dreams
by Serania a'Vienje
Summary: After the departure of the three traitorous Captains Matsumoto, Kira and Hisagi drink beyond their thirst. Everyone knows that drowning oneself in booze doesn't cure emotional wounds. They try nonetheless. Hard. Read the results. [GinxRangiku]
1. Sorrow

She tried to shove away his head that had fallen atop her breasts. He'd already begun snoring with quiet comfort. (And drooling…)

Matsumoto was quickly beginning to feel ultimately helpless and miserable.

So much for stamina and stance of men.

After some rather embarrassingly futile tries to get free of her burden she gave up on it. Today's drinking had been a little much even for her standards and she couldn't find the pools of strength she usually was able to draw from. She let her forehead drop atop Shuuhei's hair, instantly regretting her movement. The deafening noise of blood pounding in her head filled the next seemingly endless minute. The answering sigh escaping her lips echoed in her ears repeatedly.

When the drumming had finally ceased and she dared to slightly open her eyes, she saw the lights of the living room through the door left slightly ajar. No matter if it was only a few candles burning there, to her eyes it was far too bright.

Kira would probably be lying in one of her chairs or on the floor. She couldn't remember the position he had been in when she had left some time ago to further drown all her memories – alcohol alone just wouldn't do this time to clear her mind from thoughts efficiently. And she had tried hard.

So, Kira sprawled in her living room and Shuuhei…

No, she'd better not think about anything as complicated as getting up… Or getting someone off her…

She just couldn't think of a way of getting into her bed. Masumoto found herself thinking of her mattress, that would comfort her now aching back sooo nicely, soft pillows underneath her instead of a male body, heavy in his sleep, slumped over hers. Such perfect luxury just out of her reach…

She tried again to lift the weight to be able to breathe freely once more.

No chance…

But she let all that be as it may – everything before her eyes had started spinning again, so she let her lids fall down and gave in to unconsciousness.

In what she thought to be the middle of night (it was actually almost time for the sun to rise) she partly woke. By the realisticy of what she sensed, she guessed the scenery to be dream-made.

She heard rustling of soft fabric against the wood of a bedpost. The long time of being Shinigami and her familiarity with several high-level Shinigami had taught her to recognise the barely audible noises caused by a dangerous person's carefully hidden stride. The person had to be tall, measured by the long interval between each step.

Not that she did consciously notice them. Being almost asleep her subconscious mind kept mingling ordinary dreams with memories and her body's senses.

She drew in a deep breath. There went another expensive bra… Strangely though she could still feel it's constriction. Still she enjoyed the free air around her.

A silvery shadow glided through her dreamscape and caressed her brow. She shivered comfortably and leaned further into his touch.

"Fool… Why do you always care so much?"

"You're gone again. Forever this time..." she answered whisperingly in a thought.

Matsumoto sighed as the pain in her back she had somehow managed to mostly ignore before eased all of a sudden. She opened her eyes a little, at least one of them, she was sure, intending just to let in the sight of his silvery hair, she intuitively knew she'd find in this part of her dream as well. She moved the lid(s) just to add another sensation to the impact of his smell and the quiet sound of his movements, the deep timbre of his voice.

This closeness combined with her former inability to reach him at all was too much even in a dream. She dared acting on her desire this time. Matsumoto touched his face with a finger. Following a invisible path over his right eye she continued towards his chin. Feeling the soft skin of his cheek she drew a line across the edge of his almost serious lips. She smiled sadly.

"I know you're not really here. It's not like you to come this close and stay for longer than a moment.

"You fear…"

He disappeared from her view.

"As I thought. Just a dream."

She could see him standing where he had that day and experienced the same terrible events all over again. He was following Aizen through a shiny gate leading up into the sky. She struggled to run after him this time, but her feet had grown roots, deep and strong. Every of them had a name and a face, Hitsugaya Toushiro being the strongest holding her close to earth at all times.

He turned to watch her, only an arm's length away, interest shining in his crimson eyes.

"Maybe I am afraid of this dream." He whispered. "But then, so are you."

She whimpered and quivered when he reached his personal door to heaven. Again.

"So long, Rangiku…"

* * *

Two men awoke the next morning on the floor of the main room. Both were a tiiiny bit nervous about finding themselves in an embarrassingly intimate position to each other, their bodies tightly entangled. None of them was eager to ask about the events of the past night.

Matsumoto was not sure she could have given them an explanation had she tried to detangle her memories of twisted nightly shadows. She did prefer not to think too deeply about her own awakening either, for she had found herself tucked thoroughly into bed, wearing her nightgown (that pink 'next to nothing'-ness she used to clothe herself with at night) with all it's strings properly knotted.

No, she should not think of what possible explanation could be given for the later events of the previous night. She had simply had too much to drink, she decided.

Or too little.

Self-deception was such a handy aspect coming with her personality…

Unfortunately it tended to be quite brittle sometimes.

Would he come for another visit?


	2. Dare

He'd picked up the half-naked idiot and tossed him out of her bedroom.

Were she another woman he might have hated her for betraying his memory so quickly. But she wasn't. And she had promised him nothing.

Ichimaru Gin grinned sheepishly.

How could she have promised anything to him when he had always taken care to evade all sentimental moments? In fact he had fled several times.

He brushed her silky hair away from her eyes. She really was beautiful. When she sighed and pressed her face closer into his touch he hesitated. A small pang of regret made itself known to him. He shook his head to free himself of it. He had no need for feelings like this one. Like her he had chosen his path, hadn't he?

He smiled. She still was the only one able to intrude on his decisions and intentions. She was the only part of his life he'd ever withheld - and still did - from Aizen. And he'd never tell.

The soft skin beneath his hand was alluring him to stay close or get even closer.

_I'm such a…_

"Fool…"

Her facial expression changed and she looked much less carefree. Her hands twitched slightly. He sighed. Even with him taking pains to not enhance any development of romance she'd still put him into an exclusive position.

"Why do you always care so much?"

Her answer was barely audible, hadn't he been this close he'd heard but an indiscernible whisper.

"You're gone again. Forever this time..."

_Rangiku…_

She was right. He should leave soon. What had made him return at all?

_I wanted to see if you're alright. Downright foolish, but I couldn't resist._

Ichimaru pulled his hand back and turned to leave.

He froze when she opened her eyes. When she caught Ichimaru's face with her hand he took a deep breath.

The look in her half opened eyes was full of longing. _Un_obscured longing.

Unsettling. Why was it that much of a shock to him? He knew her feelings for him after all. So why did he close his eyes when she started exploring his face with the tip of a naked finger, stroking his guilty flesh? He stopped himself from kissing the soft spot of skin when it slid over his lips. It was difficult to keep from trembling.

Never before had she touched him.

Or the other way round.

Never crossed the line.


	3. Sway

"Aizen-sama," he greeted with a canting smile.

The person spoken-to turned his head and looked up from a huge tome. His hair was combed back and it's curls were greasy. He looked completely different from the man whose role he'd played mere days before. His broad shoulders no longer looked deplaced, wasted on the friendly scholar he'd been posing as.

"What news do you bring, Ichimaru?"

Striding over towards his master he threw a look at the Arrancar gathered around the throne.

_The display of megalomania hasn't lost its amusing potential over the last week. So__-o happy to be back._

"They're recuperating, there's nothing that should bother us."

With a vague smile Aizen returned his gaze to his reading.

"Well, everything seems to be according to plan." he evinced.

Ichimaru strolled through the soldiers who had been drawn to Aizen. They were apparently curious and at the same time deeply intimidated by the very same. _Nice, but some of these days there will be stronger ones._ Their number had sharply increased over the last days. They shied away under his gaze and he laughed.

"My, my, what a bunch of weaklings. Shall we keep them for Tousen to play, Aizen-sama?"

The blind Shinigami lingering in the shadows behind the sole furniture in the room coughed and glared without actually turning towards the speaker. What a shame the third couldn't see Ichimaru smile and beckon to him.

"They'll be stronger soon enough."

Playfully brushing the shoulders of several Arrancar Ichimaru approached Aizen Sosuke. Leaning against the throne he looked into the sitting man's book. It seemed to be a novel. He mused it could be a narrative about Hougyoku-related topics. The older man liked to fill his time with research after all. It was his main hobby besides manipulation and torture. Even when he seemed to do nothing in special he was actually practising one of the three before-mentioned activities. That much Ichimaru knew.

He grinned.

On the other hand it was equally possible and likely that Aizen was fooling them all by just pretending to be busy while doing something entirely different. Maybe he was looking at some completely different sort of scripture… What possibilities.

His grin widened.

"White's boring. We could colour the walls differently. Which one would you suggest, Tousen-san?"

When he received no answer but a smile from Aizen he turned away to be once again facing the dark-skinned Shinigami.

"My, white suits you."

* * *

That chapter certainly took me longer to post than I expected it to... sorry.


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